


Prompt fills

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Father's Day, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minifills of Pacific Rim Kink Meme prompts :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The things I love

**Author's Note:**

> _Chuck has a huge tattoo of Striker somewhere (on his back? his chest? his thigh?). Give me gen about Chuck getting the tattoo, or anyone commenting on it or thinking it looks really hot or whatever._
> 
> Enjoy!

Chuck Hansen has Striker Eureka tattooed on the meat of his left inner thigh. He prides himself on it a lot, even if there's practically no opportunity to show it off. 

"Beautiful..." Herc mutters, his palm lingering on the piece of art and stretching Chuck's legs further apart. Chuck's bouncing on his lap, looking at him through big hooded eyes, mouth slightly parted with the abuse that is rolling out from his purdy mouth. 

"Beautiful, yeah?" Chuck moans, rolls his hips slowly barely meet Herc's thrusts. He darts his tongue over his puffy lips "Tell me why you like it."

Herc sighs into Chuck's neck when he alows Herc to sheath himself fully inside "I love it because nobody knows about it, but me," he breathes into Chuck's ear, hand still rubbing the muscle of his thigh, fingertips ghosting over the thin bush of pubic hair "And I really love how turned on you were the first time you showed it to me."

"Yeah?" Chuck asks in a hoarse voice, Herc's other hand tugging the hair at the base of his neck.

"Oh yeah. Sometimes I wonder if you had a hard-on while they were inking that beauty into your skin," he grunts, picks up the pace "If it was my name you moaned when giving yourself pleasure afterwards."

"You know that," Chuck says, and his voice is so cracked, burst of electricity rocking through him whenever Herc's cock touched him _right there_ "You've pried inside my head."

"That's right," Herc says, and he bucks his hips so forcefully that Chuck's eyes flutter closed "You know what I love the most, though?"

He slows his pace now, and Chuck pumps his cock in earnest, completely exasperated and _so close_ "Get it over with, you old bastard," he breathes into Herc's mouth, bites his lower lip "Fuck me like you want me."

A growl bubbles at the back of Herc's throat, and that gets him going, holding Chuck's tattooed leg with one hand and jerking him off with the other. 

"I'm- cumi-Ah! _Fuck!_ " it's all the warning Herc gets before Chuck clenches his body around him and covers their hands in ropes of cum. It's not long before he's seeing white stars too. 

They breathe heavily for a while. 

"You never told me, in the end," Chuck murmurs, the tips of his ears bright red as if he hadn't been shamelessly coaxing his father into fucking him like a whore. "You know. What you loved."

"Ah," Herc says, a little sheepish but still revelling in the afterglow "I just love it that it's tattooed onto _your_ skin. That's all."

A few seconds come and go.

"That's the lamest thing you could have said, you stupid old man." Chuck says. But his words are so soft that they could also be tender.


	2. Mako Mori, Baking Extraordinare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I really just want fic of Mako stuffing Raleigh with baked goods until he cries._
> 
> Enjoy!

Mako Mori was one of the last people Raleigh would have thought of having a sweet tooth. He'd never been more off the mark.

Once her place was secured as Gipsy Danger's co-pilot, she didn't go out and celebrate with drinks like people her age. Stacker Pentecost, hard-ass military and full-time father had educated his daughter well. 

Mako Mori's version of a celebration was baking until the sun rose. 

The Pan Pacific Shatterdome's cafeteria filled with the delicious smell of melted butter and sugar every so often, a smell so strong and mouth-watering that sometimes even Chuck would slip inside and nick a cookie from the cookie jar. 

"I want you to try the Pecan Pie, too." she says eagerly as Raleigh tries to find within himself that warrior spirit that allows him to go on. 

"Mako, don't you think that it's... a little too much?" he tentatively asks, but when Makos's lips form a very thin line, Raleigh fights back the tears and eats another mouthful of delicious pie. 

"Do you like it?" she asks, cracking a smile so big that it warms Raleigh's insides. 

"It is." he mutters, spitting crumbs all over a place. He just can't swallow anymore."It's really delicious, Mako. Thanks."


	3. What a Son Has To Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _something based on this (http://24.media.tumblr.com/050b6e453a992d71370987e46f7595bf/tumblr_mohpeo5EyH1qzimwpo3_500.jpg) (there's more on tumblr but i can't be bothered to find the post right now haha sorry for the lame prompt_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Chuck is his father's son.

He's as bad at expressing himself as Herc is. To top it all of, he doesn't like Herc, doesn't stand him half of the time. The other half, they are kicking ass on the battlefield, though. So yeah, he could say Herc was okay, if he squinted really hard.

He'd never known what domesticity meant, always focused on training and the war and mainly things well beyond his age's concerns. So when Mako mentions father's day, he cringes.

"...What are you giving Herc-sensei for his day?" she asks cautiously, and rightfully so. Chuck's never been one for small talk, but Mako knows him well enough to keep him from leaving.

"Nothing, I guess," he answers, playing it off but feeling Max's eyes glinting with disappointment, the traitor. "We've never really celebrated father's day, have we?"

"Ah," she says over the sounds of welding of metals "With the end of the world so close, you might consider changing that."

Chuck shrugs nonchalantly.

"Maybe you're right." he reckons. "But I wouldn't know what to give him anyway."

And it's the truth.

The next day, Mako finds him eating by himself in the cafeteria.

"May I sit with you?" she asks.

He nods at the empty seat before him."Suit yourself."

It takes her a while to get the words out of her mouth "Remember what we talked about yesterday?"

Chuck puts his fork down with irritation. So they're going have another talk. "Look. I have no intention to cater to this stupid holi- What the hell is that?"

Mako's red at the tip of her ears, but her face looks determinate.

"I bought one for me, one for you." she says, handing him a sparkly pink card.

Chuck looks at it with disbelief. He starts reading the outermost part of the card.

"What makes sparkles and shimmers with ever- Mako. You've got to be kidding me." he says, confused and amazed all at the same time.

If she didn't look like it before, she definitely looks embarrassed now. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

"I'm not giving him this." he answers simply. Mako frowns.

"Why not?"

"Because it's bloody pink, to begin with."

"So?"

"I'm just not."

"We could all be dead by tomorrow, doesn't that mean anything to you?" she asks, and the question is so calm and collected that it knocks Chuck off. They stay silent for a moment.

"I don't have to answer that." he says and continues eating.

She stands up, and slides the pink card near his plate "Not to me. Think about it."

Then she leaves him angry and somewhat upset.

xxx

"Happy..uh...Father's day." he says awkwardly, giving him his gift inside a plastic bag, because he's clueless like that.

Herc's blank stare only makes his shame worse. Then Herc snaps out of his daze "Uh...thanks...son." he says, and after careful deliverance, pats Chuck awkwardly on the head.

Both of them look like a pair of aliens meeting for the first time.

Herc's about to open the bag but Chuck grabs his wrist. "Just...not while I'm here."

xxx

Herc's back to his headquarters to call it a night, when he sees the white plastic bag on his night stand. The first thing he notices when he pulls the card out, is the unusual colour. "This must be a bloody joke." he mutters.

The card has a large white sticker that's presumably covering whatever glittery image that was at the centre of the card, and it's labelled with 'Dad' in Chuck's messy letter. The next thing he sees are the scribbles on the original writing of the card.

__

What sparkles and FATHER'S DAY with every FATHER'S DAY

'That doesn't even make sense' he thinks. He opens up the card and it reads:

"Happy father's day, you old bastard. I hope you don't get us both killed next time we fight a Cat 4.

P.S: This is not a bloody joke."

They might be at war, and maybe this flimsy cardboard thing means absolutely nothing to Chuck, but that night Herc goes to sleep with a contented smile on his lips.


	4. 5 times Herc got distracted because he was staring at some part of Chuck and 1 time where Chuck returns the gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Their sexual relationship starts because of their emotional needs and because they love each other rather than because they found each other 'hot'. Except once they start sleeping with each other Herc can't stop thinking about how attracted he is to Chuck. Maybe something like 5 times Herc got distracted because he was staring at Chuck (his mouth or his ass or his arms or his hands)? Or even just one time."_
> 
> Enjoy!

\---

1

Chuck is lying across from Herc. 

Guilt. It swallows Herc like a throat and it doesn't allow him to sleep. The full weight of his actions doesn't hit him until it's far too late, the silence of the night eating at him until he thinks he might disappear.

Chuck is wearing no shirt, the expanse of his back in display so Herc can't do anything but look as he tries to drift to sleep. He can almost feel the plains of Chuck's lean back, his fingertips ghosting with the lingering heat of the creamy skin he had been holding. The sweat he had been condoning. The musk he had been rutting with. 

Herc snaps back into the night when Chuck shifts in his sleep. 

\---

2

Whenever _anything_ in this damn family ever works out as normal? 

Herc looks as bitter as the coffee that attacks his taste buds, filling him with much needed relief. Chuck's in front of him, and something inside of Herc stirs and it might be disgust, or the way Chuck's neck is exposed to the public eye. 

Something like jealousy gnaws at him, right next to the pulsating guilt from last night, and the thought terrifies him. He stares at Chuck's clavicles, barely visible above the tight fit of his son's shirt. 

He freezes when he sees a bruise planted there that's so beautiful, it could be art.

\---

3

They're in their room, neither willing to move because they're so tired, they just might stand each other instead. Nothing's changed, Herc realizes. If they ignored each other enough, maybe nothing had happened at all. 

Chuck's reading a book- A _manual_ , Herc realizes. He squints from his bed to try and read the letters on the cover, and Chuck clicks his tongue. 

"What?" he asks irritably, closing the booklet with too much force.

"Just wondering what you're reading." Herc mumbles pensively. 

"Nothing important." Chuck assures, and then continues. 

Herc's so physically drained, he can't sleep. So he continues staring instead. This time he waits until Chuck is too submerged in words to look up. 

He notices how Chuck holds the booklet, using one hand to support the book, the other to scribble some notes onto the margins. His hands are broad, he notices, they almost eclipse the the book, making it impossible for Herc not to look at his hands. They're rough, they're hands he wants all to himself.

He only realizes what he's thinking once the blood starts flowing to all the wrong places.

\---

4

"C'mon, Rals, give me your best shot." Chuck taunts Raleigh, wanting to see him snap. Herc stands in the background, analysing. Chuck's swings are rough, heavy with intent, while Raleigh's are more subtle, much more controlled. They look like dog's circling each other, and Herc almost grins. Tandem is reserved for Chuck and him, not for anybody else. 

In Striker, they flow like two parts of a whole. Fervour and discipline. Youth and experience. He sees none of that here. 

What he _does_ see, however is the way the flimsy cloth of Chuck's sweatpants hugs every muscle of his legs and arse. How his every part coils and burst with energy, how everything ripples when he falls, how beautiful he looks even when he's strained. 

Chuck glances up to notice Herc leaving hurriedly, and he curses him wordlessly for being such a shitty father.

\---

5

Chuck's standing completely naked in stark comparison to Herc's clothed self. 

"You old, perverted bastard. Sneaking a peak at your own son, aren't you?" he growls, the sound so angry and so erotic, too. 

"I-" Herc clears his throat, damn his hoarse voice "I wasn't doing that." 

He's so hard it pains him to admit, and Chuck frown turns slowly to a smirk, jabbing a triumphant finger at his bulge. "Well, this says otherwise."

Herc bites back a retort. 

"Maybe you just like me because I'm naked? Either way, you're sick." Chuck says before closes in, bites him in the lips forces his father to open up for him. 

And Herc's hopeless. 

He's pressed against the cold metal wall, and he bares with the pain of the jagged metal pieces that poke him in all over.

They're doing it again, something at the back of Herc's mind chimes, a warning that slowly melts into the pool of heat that collects at the base of his spine. Chuck ruts against his hip, not looking at him in the eyes, interested in getting himself off first, and Herc's too high on proximity to care. Chuck's head is bowed down, looking at the friction between his cock and Herc's clothed hip-bone. 

Herc looks at Chuck's lips, the same that adorn his panting mouth, a red so swollen and beautiful it should be a sin not to want them stretched around his own arousal. 

That's the last thing he thinks before pushing Chuck into his knees with a shove.

\---

+1

It's three in the morning when they both realize they're not getting any sleep tonight. 

Chuck stands up and leaves the room, and Herc is being overshadowed by his feelings of impotence again. 

_You weren't the better man._ a snide voice echoes inside his head, and it speaks truth.

He could give up his life in a blink for the sake of humanity. But when it came to Chuck? He couldn't hold his bestial impulses, even if they were stimulated by the former. _Specially_ when they were stimulated by the former. 

Chuck wasn't a child, he understood that much. But that didn't mean he knew what he wanted.

When Chuck returns to the room half an hour later, he finds Herc doing push-ups on the ground.

"Weren't you tired?" he blurts out before he can catch it, and Herc grunts. His face is covered in sweat, the back of his neck dripping and his face red with exertion. 

Chuck enters the room with a raised brow. Herc is still on the floor when he picks up the thick technical manual from his chair and makeshift night-stand. He shouldn't be surprised that his dad, an experienced Jaeger pilot, is capable of looking so expertly at ease when doing these kind of things. He does each push up with each muscle shifting like a piston, the rise and fall of his form swift, like made within the drift. 

His arms are thick, like pillars to a feisty sculpture, like the arms of somebody he'd like to _fuck_ , he thinks before it's too late. 

He only reddens when his erection makes itself proud and present.


End file.
